


Mailbags and Egyptian Rugs

by MycroftsOtherPenis



Category: Ian Hallard - Fandom, Mark Gatiss - Fandom, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 03:46:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MycroftsOtherPenis/pseuds/MycroftsOtherPenis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian Tweeted this</p><blockquote class="twitter-tweet">
  <p>Pleasant afternoon helping Mark go through fan mail. Some of them may have waited eighteen months for a reply but better late than never eh?</p>
  <p>— Ian Hallard (@IanHallard) <a href="https://twitter.com/IanHallard/status/326076644852891648">April 21, 2013</a><br/></p>
</blockquote>and I really wanted to fic something because I am very good at procrastinating on my big fics.
            </blockquote>





	Mailbags and Egyptian Rugs

**Author's Note:**

> I DO NOT INSINUATE THIS HAPPENED, but how sweet would it be? I can dream
> 
> Please excuse how awful the formatting/punctuation/everything may be  
> It was rushed a bit

Flickering flames threw shadows over red painted walls as envelopes lay scattered by Bunsen’s tail. Ian chuckled again,

“This is the third one to mention ‘the guild’, I’m still wondering exactly what it is they do?”

“They leave all sorts of strange letters in the Bart’s phone box from what I can tell,” Mark mused, reading another letter intently, glasses perched at the end of his nose, “I’m still not quite sure what they meant by ‘musty’, though,” he continued to read; a smile creeping across his face occasionally as something in the letter struck a chord. Ian only chuckled again, all too aware of the reference. He stretched forward and added his letter to a small pile on the table by Mark’s chair,

“This one needs signing, Mark,” he nodded in reply, returning his own letter into its envelope and placing it on the considerably larger pile on the other side of Bunsen. He stopped to stroke Bunsen’s ears for a while before picking up another letter from the mail bag.

“I really don’t think we should have let them pile up this much,”

“We?” Ian looked up with one eyebrow quirked, incredulous sarcasm. Mark just grinned behind his letter. They continued like that for a while; sorting letters into piles for signing, replying and such. Often reading aloud things that had tickled each other all while Bunsen enjoyed the fire.

 

“There’s another one for signing, dear. Quite a delicious one too, they do love that scarf,”

“As do I,” Mark replied, still not looking up from the letter in his hand, “and thank you,”

“Hm?” Ian looked up and settled back into his seat, collecting another letter from the bag that Bunsen was now using as a cushion. Mark glanced up at last, finally looking into Ian’s eyes, letting the warmest smile spread across his face,

“You called me delicious,”

“Oh, did I? I must be reading too many of these letters” He joked, darting his eyes quickly to the paper he was holding. Mark grinned and bent down again; he lifted a letter from the bag, gently tore at the purple envelope and reached two fingers inside to pull out the handwritten note folded around two photographs.

“Aurélie... French?” He questioned to himself

“What’s that?” Ian asked, eyes still on his own letter

“Nothing, I was right,” Ian shook his head jokingly

“As always then...”

The letter was short and beautifully written; unnecessarily apologising for bad English at the start and going on to explain how appreciative she was of Mark’s work. She even mentioned Bunsen, at which time mark stroked him again, smiling widely. At the end of the letter she explained how she found it hard to choose a picture to include, asking if it was ok to have two signed. Mark moved the note from in front of the pictures and hummed fondly. He’d always liked those two suits.

 

Mark dashed his signature across the front of the two pictures immediately, thanking her for her kind words and sealing them back into the return envelope; placing it into another mailbag by the side of his chair. He sighed happily and stretched his arms upwards, glancing towards the kitchen.

“Oh no you don’t,” Ian chimed, looking up, “get another one opened and _I’ll_ make a brew. You’re not getting out of it, it’s been long enough” He climbed to his feet between the piles of letter and smiled. Bunsen barked excitedly as he stood, his way of asking for a treat,

“Come on then you,” Ian gestured to the kitchen, but the dog was already half way there by the time he looked over. Ian stepped forwards and leant over Mark’s chair, bending slightly to lay a kiss on his forehead,

“Get signing”

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to Aurélie (Weholls) because she forced/persuaded me to actually write it ;)
> 
> The picture in the middle was scribbled by me in lik 0.23 seconds that is why it is crappy and I (didn't at all forge) copied the signature off google images so... yeah


End file.
